


The Stars, the Moon, They Have All Been Blown Out

by eksterteran



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Season 9, demisexual!Cas, dom!Dean, genderfluidity, human!Cas, power exchange relationship, sub!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eksterteran/pseuds/eksterteran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that he's human, Castiel has time to think about what he's done in the past and what he wants for his future. It doesn't take him long to figure it out. As luck would have it, he even gets an opening to present the idea to Dean.</p><p>(Diverges from canon after episode 9.06, "Heaven Can't Wait.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written right after 9.03 "I'm No Angel", then updated after 9.06 "Heaven Can't Wait", so it continues on from there. Since they say if you want something done right you have to do it yourself, I decided to finally branch off from AU RP and dip my scaredy-toes into fanfiction. I relate very, very deeply to Cas, so this is my take on him and where I wish canon would go; colored, of course, by my own desires as everyone's perception is.
> 
> As an interesting side note: The internet says the Gas-N-Sip is in Rexford, ID. According to Google Maps there is no such place, but there is a Rexberg. Therefore, I set Cas' new life in a small town near there, St. Anthony. It's only a little ironic that St. Anthony is known historically for his expert knowledge of scripture, and is the saint of finding lost people and things.
> 
> Obviously, I don't own Supernatural, Dean Winchester, Castiel, or any other characters or past plot events. All my lovely toys belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc. Official floorplan for the MoL bunker can be found here: http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=Bunker_Floorplan (I made only minor changes by assigning unmarked rooms.)
> 
> Fic title from "Cosmic Love" by Florence + The Machine. This song is probably my #1 Destiel song.

In his time alone, after Dean explained why he couldn't stay at the Men of Letters bunker and he concurred, Castiel found himself more able to think abstractly than he had been before the Winchesters found him. He definitely had a lot to think about. His physical experiences with April needed to be analyzed, evaluated. The new emotions he had felt toward Dean when he first saw him again, and then how those feelings had been intensified exponentially when the case with Ephraim came up, even more so. Castiel was a strategist, after all; when he commanded in Heaven, his job had been to interpret the actions of enemies into the motivations that compelled them. His own past held a multitude of actions that he had never stopped, in his blind desperation, to discern the motivation behind; the new human ardor that drove him now was changing things even more. Now that he was hidden away with a retired hunter named Alejandro in St. Anthony, Idaho and working at the Gas-N-Sip, it was the perfect time for contemplation.

The idea that he had things to examine in the first place came to him slowly. For two days after leaving the bunker he was in shock and just focused on taking care of himself, getting more into the habit of life as a human. Doing that, still haunted by the memory of April killing him so easily, brought back the fear of mortality that had already been plaguing him ever since Metatron took his grace. Dean had told him he didn't care that the angels had fallen, even though the threat they posed was the reason Castiel had to leave Lebanon. April, albeit possessed at the time, had said the burden he carried was too heavy for “such a sweet man,” and Nora had assured him that he was special because he cared so much. When he shared his past with Alejandro and queried ruefully that perhaps he also 'deserved to be saved' from the guilt of his actions, his new guardian and teacher agreed, went into the kitchen to the fridge that was covered in decorative magnets, and returned with a green, square one. The white letters read 'Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift.' “That's why it's called the 'present,'” Alejandro chuckled. “You can't let the past bring you down. You can't change it, you probably can't make up for it. All you can do is learn from it.” Castiel nodded and held the thin magnet reverently in both hands, turning the words over in his mind.

He didn't sleep well that night as he tossed in bed and started to get the first inklings of what he needed to do to finally put his guilt to rest. A little before dawn he padded to the living room and took a yellow legal pad and a pen from the desk, then sat at the kitchen table and started to write. He listed everything he had ever done that he considered a mistake. Starting from the top of the list, he flipped to a new page and began to suss out the true reasons for each his actions, one by one. By the time Alejandro wandered in for coffee and set a mug down in front of him with a frozen waffle a little burned from the toaster, Castiel had a conclusion. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him. He had even mentioned it a few times in the past. But now it held the weight of him having to make the decision of what he wanted from his drastically shortened life.

Before raising the Righteous Man from Hell, he had done his best to follow orders. He hadn't been perfect, Naomi had rubbed that in his face, but he'd tried, and it had made him content. There was a hole inside him where the structure of being a soldier of Heaven had been, ripped out when he rebelled. He had thought he could fill it with free will and good intentions but that had proved devastating. Thinking of the old adage about the road to Hell made him huff a quiet laugh and shake his head to himself. If he was going to be whole, he needed the comfort and the trust of again being able to follow orders with absolute trust.

Which brought him to the next part of his conclusion. Dean Winchester. Dean was the reason he'd rebelled in the first place. The man's blindingly vibrant soul had compelled him to his first act of vanity, the mark he had left on Dean's shoulder that highlighted the grace he had used to knit him back together. That handprint declared to any angel or demon who saw it that Castiel had saved the Righteous Man. Not a claim to Dean's soul outright, but it showed his desire for it and his pride at saving it and it was an insult to Michael that he'd done such a thing to the archangel's true vessel. After that it had been a slippery slope to abandoning Heaven in favor of the being he had become more enraptured with than he had ever thought possible. All the mistakes that proceeded to hound him came from him trying to fix things himself. Dean had warned him as of that a multitude of times, begging him to just do as the hunter asked, to be honest and open with him and to follow his orders.

There, then, was his result. It stared up at him from the final page of scribbled Enochian. Simple, and beautiful in that simplicity. What he wanted was Dean Winchester. And what would make him happy would be to be allowed to follow Dean's orders for the rest of his life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It took a while for Dean to send the message that it was safe for him to come back. Castiel didn't know what had changed in the time, and he didn't ask. Alejandro had given him an old laptop and taught him how to use the internet, and poking around there curiously had led him places that triggered previous knowledge he had about certain human activities, which led to more detailed exploration of the web. By the time he descended the stairs into the bunker he had come to a few conclusions and his demeanor had changed. When Dean grinned at him and pulled him into a tight hug to welcome him, he smiled back softly and returned the gesture timidly. Dean didn't seem to notice, waving Sam off so he could show Castiel to the ex-angel's new room himself.

The three of them fell into an easy routine. Castiel got up at dawn with Sam and went jogging. After a shower and breakfast he helped the younger Winchester with organizing the bunker and research, or went to the firing range with Dean. Lunch, then a few hours of pleasure reading, followed by yoga right before dinner. In the evening Dean delighted in showing him movies and television shows he swore were essential for Cas' understanding of the human condition. Castiel couldn't argue that he didn't enjoy them, especially since it meant more time with Dean. He became more comfortable with himself and said fewer things that got him quizzical looks from the brothers. He also became more obedient, but it was subtle that he never disagreed with Dean and always followed his suggestions, assumed that he was looking for guidance in the minutia of his humanity. The older Winchester was more than happy to lead the way, and since he usually took Cas' few expressed opinions into account Castiel rarely had reason to even want to cross him.

They hunted together, too, and found they made an intimidating duo. Castiel's proficiency with firearms had grown quickly and of course he was an expert at hand to hand combat with or without his sword. Sam soon found that it was more efficient to stay back at the motel and feed the two of them a steady stream of information. After a handful of hunts he stopped coming along altogether and instead stayed at the bunker with Kevin. By the time a year had passed since The Fall, he had replaced Garth as “the new Bobby” and put the entirety of the Men of Letters' knowledge to work for the hunter community from the safety of their own home base. Everything seemed ideal for all of them; their “apple pie ending,” as Dean liked to call it. Then God, or at least Metatron, had to make things complicated again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean caught him with a hand on his shoulder after breakfast one morning, holding him back as Sam strode off. Castiel turned, tilting his head in curiosity while the other man seemed to try to formulate words.

“Cas, man, I need to talk to you,” Dean finally stated. He looked surprisingly uncomfortable since Castiel assumed the topic was a new hunt. Perhaps it would be an incredibly difficult job for them.

“Of course, Dean,” he answered with concern. Normally they would have discussed their next hunt in the library with Sam, but when he went to move in that direction Dean took his upper arm and pointed the opposite way.

“Let's go to the garden.” His grip on Cas' tricep lingered for an extra moment before he dropped it and walked to the only door in the hexagonal space that had a panel of glass in it, holding it open for Cas to go through.

“Okay. Thank you.” Castiel was surprised but he wouldn't complain. The greenhouse was his favorite place in the bunker. It wasn't a large room, barely the size of the war room, and when he'd first come upon it the plants had run rampant. The space had been abandoned for decades but the sun shone in through a curved wall of glass etched with warding symbols and a sprinkler system in the ceiling dripped gathered rainwater, and so rows and shelves of neat pots had turned into a jungle. He had only recently gotten them under control and now he moved to one of the wrought iron lawn chairs that had been left behind near the windows and waited, only taking a seat when Dean motioned him to. “What do we need to talk about, Dean? You seem tense.”

Dean laughed mirthlessly and sat carefully on the edge of the chair, the way Castiel had learned long ago meant he was distracted by his thoughts, finally rubbing his hands together between his knees. “So, Kevin's been doing some research. On the spell Metatron used.”

That caused Castiel to perk up with interest. “What has he found?” They had told him that according to Crowley the spell was irreversible, so he hadn't thought Kevin was working on it any more.

Yet again Dean hesitated, then sighed out a curse and continued. “The spell is meant to 'unite God's two greatest creations' or something. Basically, toss the feathered flyers down among us mud monkeys and force us to get along for once. I guess God didn't realize his kids were such dicks.” He rubbed over his mouth, then clasped his hands together again. “Anyway, all the ingredients reflect that. Kill the nephil as a warning of what can go wrong. Grab a cupid's bow as a sign of potential. And steal the grace of an angel in love with a human as a promise of what can go right.” His eyes were on Cas' face, staring him down, his tone during the last sentence heavy with meaning.

The implication wasn't lost on Castiel and he met Dean's eyes evenly. “I understand.”

His calm startled the other man a bit, and Dean showed it by furrowing his brow. But when he spoke again his voice was soft and worried. “How long, Cas?”

“That's hard to answer. In Heaven I knew of the different types of love, but I had never experienced them. When I rescued you from Hell, and when I rebelled to help you, I felt Philia – Friendship Love. As I came to know the group of you I felt Storge – Brotherly Love; for Sam, for Bobby, later for Meg. Nearly for Ellen and Jo. That isn't what Metatron needed, though. I'm not sure when the Philia I felt for you turned into Eros. I didn't allow myself to recognize it, but I think it was while I had the Leviathan inside me. Unlimited power was mine, but I was still empty. When I had sexual relations with April, it was also empty. As pleasurable as it was physically, I would have done anything to have you back again instead. When I thought Nora wanted to go on a date with me, I was happy, but slightly apathetic toward the idea. I enjoyed my time on the hunt with you much more. At Alejandro's home I was able to sort out my thoughts and realize the truth.”

Through his speech he'd stayed composed, his words measured. He had watched Dean, though, and taken in the emotions that crossed the other man's features. Relief at how Cas felt for Sam, sadness at the memory of what they'd been through. Now he just looked resolved.

“I think I stopped seeing you as a friend the night before the Apocalypse. At the strip club, remember?” He chuckled as Cas nodded, and leaned back to look up at the ceiling. “I got grumpy about you goin' with that girl, but blamed it on what was goin' down the next day. I didn't really understand what I felt until Purgatory. Had a lot of time to think, there.” While he was still being vague with expressing his feelings it didn't make him as uncomfortable as it used to. He dropped his eyes to meet Cas' again, and his voice lowered as well. “What do you want, Cas?”

That wasn't something that Castiel was used to expressing. Everything he'd done for over five years had been some attempt to make up for that first time he selfishly grasped at what he shouldn't possess. But he knew now that if he wanted to be happy for the life he had left, he needed to speak for himself one last time.

“I want to stay with you, Dean. I want to follow your orders. I'm ready to do that, now.”

Dean gave him a small smile and a little shrug. “There's no question about the first part. And the rest is easy. That's it? You don't want...” he cleared his throat and gestured vaguely. “...more, from me?”

The reassurance visibly relaxed Castiel. “Perhaps I need to be more specific. I used to belong to Heaven. Now I want to belong to you. I want to do anything and everything you desire.”

It took a moment for Dean to process that, then his smile grew into a nervous grin and he covered his uncertainty in his usual lewd humor. “That sounds kinda kinky, Cas.”

Castiel nodded. “I believe 'kinky' is the modern term for the sort of power exchange relationship I desire.”

The other man looked a little shell-shocked, licking his lips and then coughing. “Okay.” Dean tipped his head from side to side, loosening his neck. “Okay, yeah, I can do that. Just don't tell Sammy.” Most of his unease was gone when he smirked at Cas and pointed a warning finger at him.

In answer, Cas tipped his head again and narrowed his eyes. “Do you normally tell your brother the details of your romantic and sexual relationships?”

That got him a slightly choked noise. “No! Shit, Cas, I was tryin' to lighten the mood! Remember the pizza man? You don't talk about this crap with anybody...” He gestured toward the door. “...outside. Nobody but us.”

Castiel nodded again, quickly, smiling slightly since he had been teasing, intending to fluster the other hunter. “Of course.” He waited until Dean stood up, then followed him. “I understand we're supposed to negotiate terms. There was mention of hard limits and safewords.”

Frustrated and still a little stunned, Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “You sound like you researched this.” Luckily he missed the small nod Cas gave in affirmation. “We can do all that, yeah. Let's go back to my room and talk.”

As Castiel followed him out of the greenhouse and downstairs to the living quarters, he couldn't help smiling with relief. Things were going to be better now.


	2. Chapter 2

It took them less than five minutes to reach Dean's room, which it ended up was just a door down from his own. They didn't say anything as they walked, and he sat silently on the foot of the bed while Dean paced in front of him. Castiel watched the hunter intently, as he always had, trying to figure out what he was feeling now that he no longer had the shifting colors of the man's soul to be his guide.

After a long minute Dean stopped and faced him full on. “Okay. I can do the orders thing. I've been trying to get your sorry ass to trust my orders for years.” There wasn't any venom behind the words, so Castiel just nodded slightly. “But that was always for your own good. Or Sam's. Or the world's.” Dean gestured expansively. “If I'm going to be giving you orders on day-to-day stuff, I need to know that I'm not making you unhappy. I want you to be happy, Cas.”

Castiel smiled at him, just a small quirk of one corner of his lips. “You have always made me happy, Dean. Infuriated me at times, because I know I was very stubborn before. But even when I was my most angry, you never made me unhappy.”

Sighing, Dean ran a hand through his hair, and it became obvious to Castiel that the man didn't know where to go with this, so he continued. “I don't think you've noticed, but I've been following your orders since I returned, to the smallest detail. Things like what we have for meals don't concern me enough to elicit an opinion. And I've liked all the television and music you've introduced me to. If something was to truly bother me, I would tell you.”

The hunter nodded, still looking perplexed. “Then what is it you want me to give you orders on?”

Tipping his head a little, thinking about the ideas that had come to him, Cas took a moment to respond. “Perhaps my daily routine. Is what I follow now acceptable? I'm trusting you to know what's best for me physically and mentally as both a human and a hunter.” He paused then, thinking they might go through this as a list, and waited for Dean's response.

The corners of Dean's mouth pulled down in the contemplative frown that Castiel found endearing. “Yeah, I mean, you're healthier than me, with the jogging and the yoga. I don't like it, but I know it's supposedly good for you, so if you like it you should keep it up.”

Cas dipped his head in a nod that was more a movement of understanding and acceptance. “Do you want me to move into this room with you?”

That question gave Dean pause, making his back straighten. “Do you want to?”

Another small smile pulled at Castiel's lips. “Being near you and seeing you happy brings me joy. I want what you want.”

Dean sighed in exasperation. “But how do I know that you know what you're saying when you give me that control? I mean, what if I want sex twenty times a day? What if I want something you really don't want?”

Again, as he used to, Cas tipped his head to the side in contemplation. “I told you I trust you, Dean. Having sex twenty times a day seems like it would be exhausting...” Dean muttered something about it being hyperbole. “...but if you wanted it, I would perform to the best of my ability. And if there is something I truly can't stand, then I believe that is what a safeword is for.”

Making another slightly frustrated noise, Dean hefted himself up to sit on the dresser facing the bed. “You always talk like you're quoting a textbook, Cas. 'Perform to the best of your ability.' That's great, but it doesn't give me any clue about where to start in finding a compromise. Relationships are about compromise, Cas. How many times would you want to have sex in a day? Have you ever even been with a dude before?”

For the first time, Castiel looked away, only for a beat, long enough to decide on his words. “I have never had relations with a man before. I have had sex twice in my lifetime, though, and while the climax is pleasurable it is not something I need or 'want'.” He gave Dean airquotes around the word. “However, I know that you are very fond of sex. If you want to have sex with me, I would gladly comply. If you do not want to have sex with me, I would want you to find someone to fulfill that need for you.”

The hunter had gone stock still as he spoke, his eyes growing wider and wider, and now his voice was flat but a little hoarse. “You don't like sex.”

Cas shook his head. “I'm sorry, but I don't seem to be aroused that way. Even as a human, with April, I slept with her because she wanted it, and I wanted to thank her for what she'd done for me.”

Dean came back to life then, leaning forward until he almost fell off the dresser, his eyes boring into Castiel's. “Cas, that's practically rape. I can't have sex with you if you're not going to enjoy it!”

This wasn't going the way Castiel had hoped it would, and he could feel the nervousness that had been growing inside him begin to tip over into anxiety. “Dean, I do enjoy it! I think I would enjoy it more with you than I even did with April. But I never...” He lifts his hands a little, palm up, and flexes his fingers as he tries to figure out how to explain. “I never _think_ about it, Dean. It's not something I desire after. It's like... There was this elderly woman who would come into the Gas-N-Sip every week for lottery tickets, and each time I sold them to her she would give me a Hershey's Kiss. When I would eat that piece of chocolate that had been presented to me, especially seeing the joy she received from giving me a gift, I would find it delicious. But I could work my entire life at the Gas-N-Sip, surrounded by a multitude of varieties of chocolate, and never even think about wanting any of it myself.”

Slowly Dean nodded. His eyes had narrowed a little as he tried to follow what Cas was telling him, but he thought he understood it now. “Okay. Well, I don't want to find anyone else to have sex with, Cas. I...” He blushed slightly and glanced away. “I got a chance before you came back, and hell, it felt good. But like you said earlier, there was something missing. It was empty. I think you're what's missing.” This was quickly getting more sappy than he was usually comfortable with, but he found he couldn't stop. “And fuck, Cas, I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of feeling empty like that. Lisa was almost enough but I couldn't leave The Life behind. When we're together on a hunt I feel whole in a way I never have, not with Lisa, not even with Sammy. If we could have the entire relationship...I think it might be just about perfect. Better than I deserve, definitely.”

At that Castiel stood and moved to stand in front of him, slightly between the hunter's legs with his hands resting lightly on the man's thighs, and his face was stern. “Don't speak like that, Dean. You deserve everything. You've saved so many people. You've saved the world. And you're a good man, down to your very soul, I know this first-hand.”

For the first time, the words seemed to actually stick somewhere inside Dean. Maybe John had been dead long enough that what he'd taught his son was fading. Maybe Henry had had an impact. Or maybe it was Cas' devotion, which was so obviously unwavering. Whatever it was, it warmed him and he rested his hands on Cas' hips, meeting his eyes and almost asking for permission before he remembered what this whole conversation had been about and he leaned forward a little ways more and captured the other man's lips. He was chaste at first, gentle, but the shaky breath that Cas let out through his nose, and the little noise he made that was just short of a moan, was enough to make him deepen it quickly. Castiel replied in kind, and Dean would have been jealous of the practice the ex-angel had had with Meg and April if he had been more capable of rational thought at the moment. Because Cas was very good at this, and Dean couldn't remember a kiss any time before in his life that held a candle to this one.

It was a while before his brain fired up again, and when it did it immediately reminded him that Cas had said he didn't necessarily want this. So he turned the kiss chaste again and then reluctantly pulled away. The gentle smile Cas had on his face, one of the ones that made his eyes glow, was almost enough to make him pull the man in for another round. But instead he licked his lips, chasing the taste of the ex-angel there, and then swallowed. “I'm willing to do this. And I promise that I'll always do my best to take your preferences into account. But I do need for you to have a safeword, and I need to know that you'll use it. And I want to know your opinions. If Sam makes canned asparagus for dinner and you can't stand it, I want you to know.” He felt the example was a bit frivolous, but if Cas really didn't have preferences like he'd claimed, then any sort of opinion he did have, Dean wanted to be aware.

Castiel chuckled at that, giving Dean's thighs a squeeze. “Okay. Let me think.” He tipped his head to the side again and ran his eyes over the hunter's face, as if the right word was hidden somewhere in the other man's freckles. And maybe it was. “I think 'freckles' would be a good word. Not that I don't want to worship your freckles all the time...” He grinned.

That made Dean chuckle and shake his head, and Castiel even caught a hint of a blush. “Alright. 'Freckles' it is.” Raising his eyes to lock his gaze with Cas' again, he smiled a little and nodded decisively. “Okay, Cas. You've got a routine to get back to. And you need to move your stuff in here before dinner.” It felt a little odd to give the commands, but not much, and he knew he could get used to it quickly. “I'll go...try to find a way to let Sam know.” The idea of it made him scowl but Cas' response made it hard to hold on to the annoyance.

The ex-angel was literally beaming, in a way Dean hadn't seen in much too long, a grin that crinkled his nose and creased the lines at the corners of his eyes. His words, though, were mild in comparison to the expression on his face as he gave the hunter a quick peck on the corner of his mouth and then went to leave the bedroom. “Yes, Dean.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Castiel saw Sam the man gave him a smile that was almost smug and a nod, his eyes bright. He had been aware that Sam knew how he felt about Dean, and it wouldn't surprise him to find out that he knew how his brother felt as well, even before Dean told him of their new relationship. Still, it was pleasant to know Sam approved. He considered the man a friend and respected his opinion.

Apart from Dean being a bit fidgety at dinner, which went unnoticed by Kevin and was accepted as excitement from Sam, nothing changed for the rest of the day. Cas had plenty of time after his talk with Dean to help Sam before lunch as he usually did, then he moved his things to his new room. The hunter's room was tidy but could use to be organized in certain areas and Cas took it upon himself to do that as he made room for his clothing in the dresser and closet. Dean had pointed out the half of his room that was undecorated with a bit of a blush, which Castiel took to mean that Dean had secretly been waiting for this, and the man told him he could do with it what he wanted. To that end Cas moved his bookshelves and books (he had collected quite a horde of cheap paperbacks; mystery, fantasy, science fiction, romance, he loved them all) and desk from his old room. It was more laborious than he anticipated but he didn't bother Dean for help and he was determined enough that he still managed to get everything settled by the time he had set aside for yoga.

Dean didn't come back to their room until after movie time that night, Cas a step behind him, and he looked at the additions to the space with interest, skimming over the books and shaking his head with a huff when he saw the romance novels. “You know guys don't read these, right, Cas?” 

“I don't see why an individual's gender would determine what they can and cannot use to entertain themselves.” There was an edge to Cas' voice that was familiar to Dean; they'd had a similar discussion while shopping for clothes for the ex-angel, who didn't seem to care what department a shirt or pair of pants came from if he liked the item. Dean had allowed him the packs of brightly colored socks with a selection of stars and stripes and dots, but had drawn the line at anything that was outwardly visible. And if Cas caught him stealing glances at the women's underwear, well, neither of them said anything.

Dean laughed lightly, shaking his head a little as he looked at Cas with a smile, and moved on to the desk. “Okay, okay. Don't let Samantha see them, though. He'll steal them away.” He glanced over the writing supplies and old laptop and the number of trinkets Castiel had gathered since he'd fallen. Colored stones, one or two little plastic figures that were scuffed around the edges from where a child had dropped them on the concrete, an unusual snail shell, a silver jingle bell on a loop of thread. It made him laugh again. “You are quite a magpie, Cas.” His brows furrowed and he grunted as he picked up a sturdy twig with a lump of plant on it. “Spanish moss?” He looked at the other man curiously. “Won't it die?”

Cas shook his head and stepped forward, touching the plant with the tips of his fingers. “This is ball moss, _Tillandsia recurvata_. It's related to Spanish moss, but not the same. And it's an epiphyte, which means it only needs dim light and humidity. An air plant. I've had it since a little before I came back here.”

That made Dean shrug with a contemplative look and put it back where he found it. It wasn't a very attractive plant, but it was interesting to look at, and part of him liked the idea of having something living in the otherwise sterile room. Having completed looking through Cas' things he turned back to the other man. “I'm glad you have stuff you like, Cas. You know, things.” Affectionately, with only a moment of initial hesitation, he cupped the side of his partner's neck with his palm. “Time to hit the sack?”

The sentiment brought a soft smile to Cas' face and he leaned in to give Dean's lips a quick kiss before going to the dresser and tugging off his clothes. The other man tried not to stare up until the point where he realized he was allowed to, and then he let himself take in Cas' torso, the angel warding tattoo under his ribs and the anti-possession tattoo between his shoulderblades. The ex-angel was tan, and lean and strong, and beautiful, really. He suddenly couldn't grasp how he'd been able to keep his hands off the other man for so long. His appraisal was only ended once Cas had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and had moved to the side of the bed, looking at him curiously. “Oh, right.” Jumping out of his thoughts he quickly stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed, laying on his side to face Cas when the other man joined him in the same position, a foot or so of slightly uncertain space between them.

Cas was looking at him expectantly, although calmly, and Dean swallowed thickly and furrowed his brow. “So, you don't...lust...but you're okay with sex.” The other man's expression brightened, happy that Dean had found a good way to describe how he felt. “Well, then what do you really like, Cas? What do you enjoy the most?”

The ex-angel flicked his gaze over his partner's face for a moment, thinking. Licking his lips, he answered. “Kissing is very pleasant. And I do want to touch you.” He demonstrated by running his fingertips across Dean's shoulder and down his side to his hip. “I know you don't like cuddling, and that's okay.” There was still some disappointment in his tone, though.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “We can cuddle if you want, I guess. How do you...” He huffed, remembering that he was supposed to be making the decisions. “C'mere. And roll over.” With a little manhandling he got Cas into position as the little spoon, one arm under the pillow they shared and the other wrapped around his partner's ribs, legs tangled. When Cas sighed contentedly and entwined the fingers of both his hands with Dean's on his chest, holding them over his heart, the hunter pressed a soft kiss to the nape of the ex-angel's neck and nuzzled into his hair.

It was easier for both of them to fall asleep than it had been in a long time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Originally Dean had been nervous about the type of relationship Cas wanted, but he found that it really seemed to come naturally to both of them. He mother-henned over Cas (although if anyone ever called it that he'd adamantly deny it). Cas was calmer and more content and seemed to be coming to terms with the shame he felt for his past mistakes. When Dean asked him about that once, his partner told him that their relationship made him feel wanted, and therefore worthwhile, a sentiment that worked to alleviate his guilt. Dean had to admit the trust and obedience Cas gave to him made him feel similarly.

Out in the field they were even better as a team than before. It was Cas' job to pack their gear while he went over final details with Sam, and once they were actually in the middle of the action there was no disagreement or questioning of his plan of attack. It put responsibility on his shoulders, but hunting was the one thing Dean _knew_ he did well and he never brushed aside any knowledge or strategy Cas shared while they were planning. 

In the bedroom Cas' lack of judgment and his inexperience and curiosity meant they ended up trying things Dean never would have broached with any other partner. He was eternally grateful that Cas had his own laptop, because he probably would die of embarrassment if Sam or Kevin got their hands on the browsing history he and the other man racked up. There were a few packages in the P.O. box and bags from Wal-Mart that had to be whisked into their room unnoticed, too. He still hated the eyesores Cas called socks, but when his partner switched completely from boxers to men's lingerie he couldn't complain in the least, even if he didn't understand how hunting in a thong could possibly be comfortable. And if he had to be the sole FBI agent during their investigations because Cas had a penchant for subtle black eyeliner and silver body jewelry...well, it made his ex-angel happy, and that made him happy.


End file.
